The Halls of Mandos
by Arlia
Summary: (Possibly my first LOTR fan fic) Questions asked about life in a time of war.


Monlia stood seemingly alone as the darkness fell at Helm's Deep. The sword in her hand felt heavy, as nothing ever had before. This was not her first battle, though she dearly hoped it would not surely be her last. Her sharp eyes scanned the land before her. Soon the horizon would be lined with the hosts of Isengard. Monlia made a quick movement with her own sword. It was made light but powerful in light of the Elven design. She turned the blade downward, making it circle, swishing in the air. Then she stopped. The young woman's eyes fell upon the sight of the horrified children huddling up closely to their unsure mothers. Monlia's heart was suddenly filled with sorrow and grew heavy. Her eyes downcast and she lowered her sword.

"Something is wrong?"

Monlia turned to see one of the travelers that had come to Edoras some days before. The Elf whose name she did not know. Slowly she sighed. "Forgive me to seem weak at a time when strength in mind in body is needed most. But I've come to witness such darkness in Rohan." She paused and looked away. "I know I should keep all my wits about me, but it is all so heartbreaking."

The Elf shook his head. "No apology is needed. Instances such as these are enough to make even the strongest warrior feel forlorn."

"Your words deliver comfort, Master Elf, but their comfort is limited. Helm's Deep is less of the refuge from what it was in years past. There is no hope for the people of Rohan."

The Elf narrowed his eyes as his gaze hardened and his voice was firm. "To be a bit distraught is no crime. But to lose faith completely, that is another. As long as you have faith, there will always be hope."

Monlia stiffly sheathed her blade and brushed past the Elf as she spoke. "Eloquently do you put your words, sir. But even a child can see through them."

The Elf looked after her as she walked out of sight, though she looked back naught. Legolas shook his head. No warrior could she be if she not even believe in the strength of her own people. He looked upon the women and children, thought of the horde of Orcs that served only to ensure the annihilation of the people of Rohan. Legolas looked over his shoulder as Gimli approached from behind. 

"Many of the weapons are ill-made, and the boys know even less about how to use him." The Dwarf stopped, seeing his friend drawn into a vacant state of mind. "You think this the end, don't you?"

Legolas looked off in the direction to where the young woman had gone off to. Slowly his gaze returned to the Dwarf. "No. I won't think it the end. Not till I believe it is." 

Monlia stood with her sword at her side. The forces of Orcs marched not a mile away from Helm's Deep. Her heart rose in her throat with excitement, and fear_. Is fate still in control? _Monlia wondered this, not for the last time. If she lived or died in this battle, would fate be responsible? Or did it matter what fate's plan was… if fate was there to determine. Monlia was certainly having her doubts in all she had ever believed.

"Forgive me, for what I had said earlier," said the Elf, coming to her side as he looked off at the Orcs. "My name is Legolas, 

"Monlia," she said softly, rather aloof. She looked back to him after the silence and her face was etched with fear. "Even if we win this battle… many will die."

"Death is one of the few results of war. One of the more devastating effects. Fate, has a plan for us all."

Monlia couldn't help but smile, it was as though he had been reading her mind only moments before. "Fate? We shall see what fate has in store, Legolas. Maybe there is something meant for us, but what for the one's who die? What of them?"

"There is only an end."

"That's incredibly morbid," Monlia said bitterly. "I thought Elves weren't supposed to say such things."

"Well then that is a misconception," Legolas replied firmly. "I'd be wrong if I said that the women weren't supposed to be here." Then he looked at her sidelong. "But then I wouldn't be taking everything account, then, would I?"

There was a short pause as Monlia thought to herself. "Well… I just thought… that even you would believe in something… Valinor… The Children of Illuvatar… The Halls of Mandos."

"You know you're history," commented the Elf.

"It seems hardly useful now. Parents always told me: "An ignorant mind will never do." But… may I ask you something, Master Elf?" she inquired, and her voice had begun to falter. She did not wait for an answer and the words poured out of her mouth. "If wisdom is everything, if ignorance is not sought after… than how can the world come to this?"

Legolas' brow furrowed in concentration and confusion. "I am afraid I don't know what you mean by this…"

Monlia opened her mouth, her eyes fixed upon the approaching horde as her hand gripped on the hilt. "How is it that if knowledge leads to understanding… how can one that can rally such a force be so badly informed that he know naught the devastation and horrific effects."

"The world doesn't think like the rest of us, Monlia," said the Elf slowly. "It's not that the evil ones have no knowledge of what they are doing… it's that they don't care. Nothing matters to them. They're not ignorant. They're blind. And they simply don't care."

Monlia's gaze at the Orcs hardened. "It's a dreadful Middle-Earth we live in."

Legolas looked about at the Uruk Hai carcasses and bodies of Rohirrim that lined Helm's Deep. His quiver was empty, but his heart was filled with the excitement of battle, though ended it had. Replaced his long, white knife in its sheathes and made his way across the Hornburg Courtyard. As his eyes fell across those who had given the ultimate sacrifice to Rohan, his excitement waned, and was instead filled with morose. 

"Master Elf…"

Legolas looked over his left shoulder to see Monlia, propped in a sitting position against a large boulder, her face was completely blanched, except for where it was stained with blood. Legolas went to her side and knelt down, his eyes not able to contain the grief that he felt. Monlia's right hand still grasped to the hilt of her sword, while the other was firmly set to her stomach where there had been a sever wound.

"Monlia… What happened?" Slowly the Elf drew her hand away from the wound. Monlia let out a short painful gasp and grimaced as he inspected the stab from an Uruk's blade that ran deep. "Monlia… I'm sorry…"

Despite the pain etched on her face, Monlia smiled. "You have nothing to be sorry for." She cringed and gasped as a new wave of pain washed over her. "It's only fate… There's nothing we can do about it, Master Elf…"

"Legolas, please, milady," he replied quietly.

The smile remained. "I suppose I'll find out whether the Halls await me…" Then her face grew even and her eyes clouded over as her head lay back against the boulder. The grip on the hilt had gone limped and no more rasping breaths emitted from her. Legolas raised a shaking hand and closed her eyes, grasping the hand that once wielded the sword. He heaved a sigh as he looked at all the discarded bodies of once living beings.

"May the Halls be there for all of us."


End file.
